


Formidable, In Everything

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-04
Updated: 2006-03-04
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:38:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8075581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Archer confronts T'Pol over her reactions and high command's reactions to P'Jem. Postep, 1.15 "Shadows Of P'Jem." (12/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: I originally wrote this stroy after the first airing of 1.15 "Shadows Of P'Jem." In light of circumstances since that episode, some details might seems a little odd. Hopefully it still works well.  


* * *

The tension on the bridge was high, and it wasn't related to cabin fever.

When T'Pol had entered the bridge this morning, the crew's mood had shifted from generally pleasant to vaguely tense. He wasn't sure how or why it had happened, but during the brief time it took her to walk from the lift to her station the overall mood of the bridge crew had become prickly. As had happened every day this past week.

Jonathon Archer wished that he could believe that it spoke to how well the crew had become attuned to even T'Pol's emotions, despite her claimed lack of such, but he couldn't quite blame it on that. He had spent some time studying her over the past few days and she acted as serene as always. Perhaps a bit distant, but given that he was trying to study the actions of a rather observant woman without her notice, that conclusion could easily be influenced by his methods.  
Also, the attitude of his staff was an attitude he had been fighting himself. It was almost as bad as the discomfort that crew members had broadcast during T'Pol's first journey with them. A discomfort then created by suspicion and anger that he wanted to believe they had grown beyond by now. He did not understand and was disturbed by its reappearance

Within moments, Trip only managed to make the situation worse.

"T'Pol, I was glancing over your sensor alignment last night, and I'm not sure that you're collecting the data you should."

She glanced over towards Trip, calm yet stubborn all at once. "I believe that my sensor alignment allows the collection of all information required by the defined parameters."

"Yeah, but if you reconfigured them like I figured out, I think there's some additional data you could collect with the same number of scans." He handed her a pad.

She studied the pad for a moment, then handed it back. "Your figures make it obvious that you are best placed configuring engines, not scientific instruments."

Trip bristled, and Jon tensed.

"Well, what's wrong with them? I think that they might extend the capabilities of the sensors."

"Those configuration changes will reduce their accuracy."

"Not by enough to be concerned about!"

"Any reduction in accuracy is a problem. These sensors are inaccurate already."

"Well, I'm sorry that they are not up to the high and mighty expectations of a Vulcan. They're the best that StarFleet engineers could build, beg, borrow or steal. Of course, doing any of the above with damn Vulcans politicians looking over your shoulder is problematic ..."

Her face hardened. "Blaming all the technical problems of the Enterprise on Vulcans is illogical. Your engineers ..."

"Did the best they could." Jon interrupted their disagreement, earning himself a glare from Trip and a cold glance from T'Pol. "I trust T'Pol's judgement on the sensor configuration, and I believe that we have all the time we need over the next few days to run as many scans as are required."

Hoshi and Travis glanced at one another, giving up all attempt to feign disinterest in the argument. Jon ignored their interest.

Usually, he was content to let one of their disagreements to run its course, but usually it didn't descend quite so quickly into a name-calling session. He feared what description T'Pol might come up with about StarFleet engineers, and how Trip might decide to respond. The truth could be sugar-coated, or told with all its cruel, razor-sharp edges exposed. T'Pol was skilled at the latter, and he didn't need two senior officers coming to blows on the bridge.

"Then cap't, if my suggestions are not wanted here, I think I will be heading down to engineering." Jon could hear an edge of betrayal coloring Trip's voice, but he chose to ignore it. Trip was equally to blame for the occasional bouts between him and T'Pol, and Jon wasn't going to take sides. Especially today. Especially when T'Pol was correct, but any indication that he believed that to be the case would make the situation worse. T'Pol was not an easy person to support at times.

Trip stomped his way onto the lift, and T'Pol returned her eyes to her scanners. Travis rolled his eyes and turned back to his station. Hoshi made a half-hearted attempt to attract T'Pol's attention, but the Vulcan either missed or ignored it. Jon rubbed his forehead, checked status on all his screens, and retreated to his ready room.

A few minutes later, the door buzzed. "Come in."

Hoshi entered, and he looked at her inquisitively. Although he had had no expectations about who might enter, her appearance surprised him. "What can I do for you, ensign?"

"Sir, I think that we've all noticed that T'Pol is grating on our nerves more than usual."

He sighed, and decided that honesty was the best response. Hoshi could be a good sounding board, and despite her recent problems she still had good instincts. And was a good enough friend to tell him if his suspicions were completely off-base. "We are all tense around T'Pol, and I don't know why. It directly contradicts the attitudes we have been developing towards her, and I don't think that I've seen Trip intentionally edging on malice in their arguments for a few months."

"You know that Vulcans can be telepathically sensitive, right?"

"So I've heard ..."

"Well, this began as gossip back on earth, but it's something I suspect is true, based on my studies of Vulcan history and linguistics ...what I've heard is that one of the reasons that Vulcans control their emotions is that under extreme duress they may affect the emotions of those around them. And the source of the tension seems to be directly related to T'Pol. I don't think that we've all changed so dramatically in our reactions towards her—when she is not present and I think about her, I feel fine. When she is present, though, I have this background sense of irritation, like I want to push her as far away from me as possible. It could even be as simple as her projecting her emotions through subtle body language, although I haven't seen much of that."

"We're tense because T'Pol is tense?"

"Maybe we're tense because T'Pol is upset. But how upset would she need to be?"

"Or, what would cause that?" Jon noticed Hoshi's face light up. "I think you have an answer to that?"

"She received a communication from Vulcan high command a week and a half ago. She did not respond, and has received nothing since then."

"Nothing? No personal messages, anything?"

Hoshi shook her head.

"Is that unusual?"

"Not entirely, sir—Vulcans don't seem to have much in the way of personal communications. But it was immediately afterwards that I began to feel uneasy around her."

"Thank you, ensign."

She gave him an odd little smile. "I try to help, sir. I've come to like her."

He barely noticed her exit, as he wondered about the information she had just given him.

* * *

About an hour later, he walked onto the bridge and checked status. Ship-wise, everything was running smoothly. But the humans tending the bridge were fidgeting and not engaging in the idle small talk that had usually erupted by this time. T'Pol herself seemed to have her complete concentration focused on her instruments.

"T'Pol, can you come to my ready room with me?"

She looked up from her station and tilted her head. "Certainly, captain. Do you want a report on the readings I have collected so far?"

"That is not necessary."

As she walked by his side, he could feel what Hoshi had been attempting to describe. It was like an annoying tickle on the back of his neck, causing his hair to stand on edge. She was putting out a more hostile air than usual. Part of it _was_ a tenseness to her body language—now that he was moving next to her, studying her more directly, he recognized that she was not moving with her usual fluid grace. In conjunction with her expressionless face, it played against his emotions, creating this urge to push her away, to isolate her. But there was something more, something beyond her body language that he could not describe or categorize.

It was rather impressive, actually, how well what seemed to be either a conscience or subconscious attempt to isolate herself was working against all of them. If not for Hoshi's sensitivity and intuition, he did not know how much longer it would have taken him to discover it, or what would have happened in the meantime.

They reached his ready room, and he motioned for her to sit down. She either missed or ignored the subtle gesture, and remained standing. He remained standing too, feeling that his height advantage might come in handy, psychologically. Not that he really had any idea how to play psychological head games with a Vulcan.

He decided to be direct. "T'Pol, what happened? You don't seem to have been in the best of moods for the past week."

"To be in a mood requires emotion."

"Yes, it does."

"I am fine."

"You are not. And don't tell me that Vulcans can't lie—I think we've proven that statement untrue enough times recently."

She remained silent.

"Ensign Sato believes that you may have received a communication recently that was not exactly what you expected?"

"Are none of my personal communications private?"

"She only delivered it, and associated it with a change in your mood."

"I received a communication from high command."

"And?"

She hesitated, and shifted from foot to foot, startling him. Then she closed her eyes for a brief moment, as though regaining her control.

"They gave me two options, over P'Jem. First, to return to Vulcan and accept what awaits me there. Second, to remain with my assignment on Enterprise, with the expectation that when it is complete, I will return to Vulcan to face judgement."

"They made Enterprise your exile?"

"I do not think that is exactly an accurate description of the situation. They are willing to wait on my return until I complete my responsibilities here. My responsibilities here are open-ended, which means the period of time they will take is indeterminate."

The full weight of the situation T'Pol had been forced into struck Jon.  
"Basically, you are allowed to remain with us, but with the threat of disgrace always hanging over your head. You can't return home without accepting that disgrace."

"It is an acceptable compromise, captain."

Realizing that, in her own polite but utterly annoying fashion, T'Pol was attempting to avoid a confrontation, he took a stepped directly into her personal space, taking an aggressive stance.

"T'Pol, what they are doing now is perhaps worse than their original demand. They are taking a situation where you have created a place for yourself, where you are welcomed and accepted, and making it your prison.

"The logical conclusion is not always the correct conclusion. In this situation, Vulcan high command is at least equally—if not fully—responsible for what happened at P'Jem. They chose to violate a treaty, and kept you ignorant of that violation. A decision made without complete information may make you guilty in hindsight, but there was no way you could have foreseen the results of our visit. And even had you argued more strongly against it, I probably would have pressed the visit. If you are even the slightest bit at fault, I am at least equally at fault. For you to take the blame for my decisions and actions taken under my command is quite illogical.

"I believe that for Vulcan high command to continue to press punishment against you in these circumstances is both emotional and illogical. They are pressing a vendetta, not trying to figure out what went wrong. The situation they have created is not a compromise—it is emotional blackmail."

For a long moment, she stared at him, and he could see slight flickers of emotion breaking through her control. That further worried him. The only reason he could identify the almost indistinguishable facial twitches that betrayed her attempts to control her emotions was because of the number of extreme situations they had experienced together over the past several months. Her attempts at control only betrayed her in such a fashion under extreme stress. Being on the ship, in the middle of an uneventful two-week cruise to their next destination should not bring her to the edge of her control, yet she appeared more upset, more vulnerable, than he had ever seen her.

The air around them seemed to thicken, as though something was prepared to come crashing down. The tension prickled along his arms, and his muscles fluttered in confusion.

Then, without warning, she crumbled. Standing so close to her, it was only instinct which allowed him to catch her. Jon caught her and supported her against his chest, shocked by the trembles which shook her body. She wasn't crying—he wasn't even sure that Vulcans had the ability to produce tears—but she had completely collapsed. Her eyes were closed, her muscles as tense as steel cords, and she didn't try to pull away from his embrace or seem to be in control of her shaking.

He had not intended this.

Part of the problem was obviously physical—it appeared that stress could lead to some of the same problems in Vulcans as humans. He began to gently massage the muscles on her shoulders and back, hoping that the same techniques would ease the tension. He quickly felt some of the muscles ease, and her trembling decrease. She allowed him to continue until the trembling eased, and then tried to pull back.

He kept gentle hold on her arms, a hold she could break if she felt truly uncomfortable with the situation, but an excuse if she did not. She stayed within his grasp but refused to bring her head up and look directly at him. He massaged her arms, her shoulders, the sides of her neck. When his hands reached her jaw, he gently upturned her face so that he could study it. She didn't refuse, but calmly met his eyes, her impassivity reestablished.

He liked what he saw. Six months ago, he might have seen her calm willingness to met his eyes as arrogance or aggression, especially after the unexplained event which had just taken place. But it was T'Pol—the T'Pol he knew and respected. Whatever had just happened and his quick acceptance of it had apparently purged her of some of the repressed anger, or stress, or self-hatred, or whatever had been consuming her control. Exhaustion lurked at the corners of her eyes, like when she lay in sick bay recovering from that damned plasma bullet, but that was to only be expected. He suspected that she had not gotten much sleep recently.  
He began to release her face, only to be suddenly overtaken by a strong urge to kiss her. And a strong belief that—even unknowing of whether Vulcans expressed affection through similar displays—she would not object. The urge shocked him and delayed him for a second, before he dropped his hands and drew back a step. She remained in place, once again the picture of calm.

"I apologize, captain."

"There is no need to apologize."

"I have not been the most tolerant or diplomatic over the past few days."

"We all have our moments. Look at the bright side—you seem to have them much more rarely than humans."

"I would expect that."

"I know you would."

Another moment passed as they studied one another, and Jon got the distinct impression that she knew what he had been thinking just before he stepped back. He almost broke the glance as a slight bit of embarrassment tinged his cheeks, but her expression softened for a moment, almost in sorrow or disappointment.

"Captain, I can return to duty? My scans need to be completed."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "T'Pol, you are not returning to duty today. There are several days ahead to complete your scans. I order you to do whatever you need to do to relax for the rest of today."

The expression he had come to associate with stubbornness hardened her face. "My work is relaxing."

"Obviously not relaxing enough, especially under these circumstances. If you need to, ask Dr. Phlox for something to help you sleep or go meditate, or work out or something. That's an order."

She said nothing, but he could feel her acquiescence.

"T'Pol, I want you to remember something. No matter how your assignment here started, or under what circumstances high command wants it to continue, you are a member of this crew. People here like you. I like you. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but it did. And humans have this thing called compassion that you seem to look down upon sometimes. Even though it can cause us to do stupid things, it also means that when you're suffering, if you need to talk, all you need to do is ask for someone to listen. Even if you just need to stare off at the stars with someone sitting nearby as you silently work it out, we can do that to. If you need someone to confront you, that can happen too. We can be damned intrusive if we think it's needed. And we're going to continue to be this way."

"I realize that. It is very human."

Her tone struck him. "You do not say that like other Vulcans."

"That may be true." She hesitated. "Thank you, captain."

"You're welcome. Go do something else. I don't want to see you back on the bridge today, and I better not see you with a pad studying sector scans."

She turned, and exited.

He sat, and for a few moments reflected on the memory of her face, upturned towards his, and her eyes easily meeting his. Definitely a formidable ally.

A formidable woman.


End file.
